


Just Three Words

by reindeerjumper



Category: Bridget Jones's Diary (2001), Bridget Jones's Diary - All Media Types, Bridget Jones's Diary - Helen Fielding
Genre: Declarations Of Love, F/M, Getting Back Together, Love Confessions, Mentions of Daniel Cleaver, Post EOR, Requited Love, Tell me how you really feel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-22
Updated: 2017-01-22
Packaged: 2018-09-19 04:05:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9417761
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reindeerjumper/pseuds/reindeerjumper
Summary: Mark still can't believe that Bridget loves him. She hadn't said it before, and for a while he thought she'd never say it all, but as always she blindsided him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Post-EOR, right after Bridget shows up at Inns of Court to tell Mark _just_ how much she appreciated him freeing her from prison. Inspired by [this scene](http://hisreindeerjumper.tumblr.com/post/155788522190/parkxiaowu-bridget-that-was-not-the-most) (that [Carmen](http://parkxiaowu.tumblr.com/post/155788235516/bridget-that-was-not-the-most-romantic) so lovingly gifed for me!), mostly due to Firthy's incredible range of emotion just through his eyes. Obviously I don't own any of this--I'm just inspired by Helen Fielding's genius & Colin Firth's A+ acting skills.

He had known he wanted to marry her the minute he saw her standing in the snow wearing only her knickers and a cardigan. He wouldn't have flown back from America if that wasn't the case--he was in deep and he had known it. In true Mark Darcy fashion, though, it had taken him months to even admit that he loved her. 

After an absolutely terrible night at the Law Council Dinner, Mark had walked halfway across London to finally blurt those three little words into Bridget's intercom. The tension of the night and the heartbroken look on Bridget's face as she walked away from him was enough to stir some inner authority in him. He had gotten halfway across the bridge before he realized what a tosser he was being, and he decided right then and there to push aside his own petty annoyances and declare his feelings...three times, in fact, and the last time at the top of his lungs. 

Yet, Bridget hadn't returned the sentiment. 

He didn't say anything about it, but it niggled at the back of his brain for weeks. They went skiing on their mini break and she didn't even utter the last two of the words. Even as she stood in their hotel room with the pregnancy test in her hand, there was no outpouring of sentiment. He could see on her face plainly that she felt the same way, otherwise she wouldn't have even bothered telling him in the moment.

But all he wanted were those three blasted words to leave her mouth. 

It was amazing to him how much he had craved the validation, even if he wouldn't say it aloud. He spent more time than he'd like to admit thinking about it, and it ate away at him. Mark Darcy didn't put himself out on a limb like that, and it hurt that his efforts had gone unreciprocated. But that didn't stop him from proving his feelings to her. Even after they had broken up, Mark’s heart ached and pined for Bridget. 

He worked tirelessly to get Bridget out of Thai prison, but refused to let her know that it was him who put in the legwork. Putting himself out there once the way he had was enough--he didn't need his ex-girlfriend to know that he still felt the same, especially if she didn't. As uncomfortable as it had made him, Mark put on a cool demeanor, giving Bridget the facts about her release and not going an inch past necessity. As he walked out, he desperately fought the urge to run back in and take her in his arms. Even he had surprised himself with how distant and detached he came across. 

In some twisted turn of events, though, things changed. Just a few hours earlier, Bridget barged her way into Inns of Court and gate crashed his meeting to declare her love for him in front of an entire room of diplomats. She was soaking wet (god knows why), wide-eyed and breathless. He had almost sweat through his suit from nerves--public displays of affection made him nervous, and he couldn't figure out where she was going with her speech. 

And then, just like that, those three words that he had been desperate to hear for months fell from her lips like a promise-- “I love him. Always have. Always will.”

The sound of her voice echoed in his brain as he processed what was happening.  _ She loves me.  _ Pushed past his point of discomfort, Mark had swiftly guided Bridget out of the room and into the hall. The rollercoaster of emotions continued as she argued the level of romance her gesture possessed, and then she completely crushed any hopes he had of popping the question by steamrolling him into oblivion.  But this was a second chance and Mark truly couldn't contain himself any longer. 

“Bridget Jones, will you marry me?”

Just the feeling of her in his arms alone completely repaired the hurt he had been carrying around inside of him for weeks. The dampness of her hair against his cheek, the weight of her in his arms, the thrum of her laugh against his chest...it was all too good to be true. Going back into his meeting was absolute torture (not to mention a little embarrassing), but he whispered a promise in her ear before she left that he was going to prove his love to her that night, come hell or high water.

After leaving Inns of Court, Mark went straight to Bridget's flat with a bouquet of peonies and a bottle of champagne. Dinner was an afterthought as they picked up where they left off only a few short months before. Mark ravished her with ferocity, all of his pent up emotions bubbling to the surface the minute his mouth found hers. 

They made love in waves--the top of the wave was ecstasy, hungry mouths seeking each other out and passionate heat. The bottom of the wave was post-coital bliss, with whispered thanks and soft caresses. Mark had been on an endorphin high. The edges of his vision were vignetted with softness, and every time Bridget's fingers brushed against his skin was like an electrical pulse firing through his nerves.

He now lay in her bed, his arm crooked under his head to give him some leverage. It was nearing midnight, and Bridget was fast asleep. It wasn't lost on him how their roles had been reversed-- the number of times he had been woken up to the sensation of being stared at was innumerable. In the moment, though, he started to understand why Bridget did it.

She looked completely at peace, and the vulnerability that she exuded made him feel protective. He wanted to wrap her in his arms and kiss her hair and keep a hand over her heartbeat so no one else could ever take it. The sensation of adoration he felt for Bridget lapped against the edges of his heart, causing his eyes to turn moist. Mark blinked, surprised at the emotion he felt. 

Bridget's hand lay on the pillow next to her face, and Mark reached out to gently take it in his. She didn't stir as he brought it to his lips, softly pressing kisses against her knuckles.  _ My darling Bridget.  _ Taking his thumb, he gently ran the pad of it over her knuckles where he had just kissed her. It wasn't in attempt to wipe the sentiment away, but rather to push them into her skin so it never disappeared. 

Mark placed her hand back on the pillow, and took his own hand to gently brush the back of it against the softness of Bridget's cheek. Everything good he associated with her--warmth and softness, laughter and amusement, safety and protection. He took the pad of his thumb and ran it across the apple of her cheek, then down her face and cupped her chin. He always did this, and he was never sure why. It didn't serve a purpose...he just liked the feeling of her warmth and solidity under his hand. Mark pressed his thumb against her mouth, running it gently along her bottom lip. Her breath puffed against his skin. 

“I love you,” he murmured, drawing his hand back. 

“Love you too,” came a muffled, sleepy reply. 

_ Shit,  _ Mark thought, realizing he had woken her up. Bridget's eyes fluttered open and she gave him a sleepy smile. 

“I'm sorry, darling,” he whispered.

“S’fine. I suppose I deserve it after all the times I've done it to you.”

Mark smiled at that. 

“What are you doing up, anyway?” she continued. 

Mark let out a little sigh, embarrassed that he had been caught. “Just thinking.”

“‘Bout what? What a great shag I am?”

“Well, I always think about that. And yes, it  _ had  _ crossed my mind.” Mark paused before continuing, “I was just thinking...about what you said today, during my meeting.”

Bridget grimaced. “Which part? My incredibly eloquent monologue about being incarcerated in Thai prison, or my less than romantic proclamation of love?”

Mark chuckled low in his throat and reached out his hand to gently brush the hair off of Bridget’s forehead. “The latter,” he replied. 

“Why were you thinking about that? It's not like it was a secret.”

Mark paused, the look on his face clearly expressing his confusion. “It...Bridget. It was absolutely a secret, at least as far as I was concerned. You hadn’t said that you loved me before today.”

It was now Bridget’s turn to look confusedly at him, her infamous pout taking shape on her lips. “Mark, yes I had.”

“No, you hadn’t.”

“I’m sure I had.”

“Bridget, I don’t want to argue with you about this, but until today, I didn’t know how you truly felt until you expressed yourself in front of a room full of diplomats.”

“Oh, Mark. Are you absolutely certain?”

Trying to keep his composure, Mark responded with a steadying sigh. “Bridget, I’m certain. And the only reason I’m so certain is because it’s been tearing me up inside since I said it to you first.”

He watched Bridget swallow, her eyes filled with a sadness he rarely saw. 

“Mark...I’ve always loved you. You knocked me on my arse the second you said you liked me just the way I am, and I haven’t gotten up since. Nobody ever made me sincerely feel like they liked me just the way I am...I always felt like they liked me and just took the raggedy parts of me, but in a begrudging kind of way. But the... _ look _ in your eyes the night you said it spoke volumes. Somedays I can’t even believe that someone as perfect as you likes me at all, let alone loves me. Ironically, I  _ still _ believe you like me just as I am. Even with my vulgar mouth and my proficiency at being an absolute klutz, and even if I insult your friends and can’t cook, and yes, even if I’ll always be a little bit fat. I’ve never doubted how you feel about me. Surely you knew that I’ve always loved you, just as much as you love me.”

Mark felt like an idiot. His pragmatic thought process had kept him focused on concrete evidence instead of the subtlety in front of his face. Of course she had loved him--she sacrificed her sanity to go to the Law Council Dinner with him, despite her clear discomfort. She looked at him with an adoration that could only be described as love (awake or asleep, it didn’t matter). She thought about him constantly--almost as much as he thought about her--based solely on the random texts he got from her throughout the day, or the phone calls to his office. She feared losing him to Rebecca and was prepared to fight for him. She wanted to have a baby with him, even if that particular conversation didn’t end the way he would have liked. 

Of course she loved him. 

“I’m so sorry if I didn’t say it to you, Mark. I really am,” she whispered as she kept her eyes locked on his.

“Bridget, I’ve been an idiot. Please don’t apologize...it was so obvious that you loved me, but I’m an arse and didn’t realize it. I don’t know how I could have missed it, honestly. That’s probably why I was so blindsided when we decided to split up...deep down I knew you loved me back, and if you love someone, you should be with that person.”

Bridget gave him a weak smile before inching closer to him. She looped an arm across his waist and ran her nails across the bare skin of his lower back as she nestled her face into his collarbone. He reveled in the feeling of her warm breath against the bareness of his skin as he pulled her closer to him. Pressing his lips against the top of her head, Mark cursed himself for ever being so stupid.

“Bridget, you’re everything good in this world.”

He felt her pull back a little as she said, “What do you mean?”

“You’re...you’re just good. You’re the essence of what goodness is. You’re laughter and light and comfort, all at once. The minute I see you I feel myself becoming happier. I never thought I could love or be loved again, after Tamiko, but you’ve proven me so incredibly wrong (which you know I don’t take lightly to). In hindsight, I don’t even know if what I had with Tamiko could be considered love. The feeling I have when I’m with you exceeds whatever I feeling I had with her. Like I said...you’re everything good in this world, especially when you’re in my arms.”

He felt Bridget press a kiss against his Adam’s apple, the pads of her fingers pressing into the small of his back. 

“And for the record, I am far from perfect. You of all people should know that. I fold my underpants, and I can be pigheaded, and I clearly can’t control my temper when it comes to anyone having you besides me.”

At this, Bridget fully unfurled herself from the warmth of Mark’s neck to look him directly in the eye.

“What do you mean, ‘clearly can’t control yourself’?”

Mark gave her a sheepish look, grimacing at setting himself up. He hadn’t mentioned his little confrontation with Daniel at the art gallery, and hadn’t really planned on telling her, but it looked like the cat was out of the bag.

“There’s a good chance that I might have engaged myself in another altercation with Daniel Cleaver before you came back from Thailand…”

“You  _ what?” _

“Well, when you told me in Thailand that you didn’t have any... _ relations _ with him, it ignited a fire inside of me that wouldn’t be doused until I punched him squarely in the nose. So, I may or may not have shown up on the set of his show.”

“And…?”

“And I asked him to step outside, and then threatened to  _ drag _ him outside if he didn’t do it willingly. The next thing I knew we were waist-deep in a fountain outside of the gallery he was filming in and I was valiantly trying to drown him in six inches of water.”

Bridget’s mouth at this point had fallen open in disbelief. Mark felt himself cringing as he braced himself for her reprimand, but was startled when a sharp, loud laugh escaped Bridget’s lips.

“Are you  _ kidding me?  _ You almost  _ drowned _ Daniel Cleaver in my honor?”

“Well, yes. He’s an absolute tosser and deserved it. Based on the way the crowd was cheering, they clearly wanted me to win anyway.”

“ _ There was a crowd?!” _

“We seemed to have attracted quite the group...but I think that may have been due to the hair pulling that led up to the drowning.”

He watched with secret glee as Bridget rolled onto her back, overcome with belly laughs that shook the whole bed. He propped himself up on a hand to watch her, and he took particular joy in the warmth that was spreading through his chest as she continued to laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he finally asked, unable to keep the grin off of his face.

“I can’t believe you’ve fought him...not once, but twice. And just for me.”

Mark grabbed her around the waist and pulled her into him, his own laughing now blending with hers. He dipped his head down to kiss her on the neck, nuzzling against her skin as he felt her laugh vibrate through his chest. 

“For the record, I won,” he growled into her hair, placing another kiss against her hairline.

“I wouldn’t doubt it.”

“And you  _ do _ know that I’d do anything for you, don’t you?”

“I do now.”

Mark smiled and placed his forehead against Bridget’s temple as he felt her laughter start to slip away. She gave a contented sigh, placing her hand over his that now lay on her stomach.

“I love you, Bridget Jones.”

“And I love you, Mark Darcy.”

Those three words, when spoken by her, would never stop being perfect.

 


End file.
